Time Elapsed
by Tori Angeli
Summary: Something strange is happening to Michelangelo when he is caught in the wake of a rift in space and time. When he discovers that his family is disappearing one by one, he must find out what is happening to him, and to his family, and who is causing it.
1. Mike, Mike, and Mikey

"That is where you would be wrong, my friend. Michael Flatley's just a freak of nature. Michael Jackson ain't natural at all." 

"I'll give you that, but Michael F. defies nature altogether. He breaks every rule it has. It's like a mockery of the familiar, whereas I'm used to the totally whacked-out." Michelangelo thought it amusing that his brother, a five-foot-two anthropomorphic turtle who once plowed over three rooftops on a motorcycle, threw a hand grenade into the fourteenth-story window of the fourth, chucked the motorcycle, grabbed onto the fire escape of the next building, rode the ladder down until it stopped, fell onto another motorcycle moving at 60 miles per hour, and later said it was all kinds of fun, was freaked out by a formerly black pop star.

"A mockery of the familiar? And you're what?" Raphael snorted. "Granny Smith?"

"I am a balanced mixture of the mundane and the alien and one hundred percent awesomeness," Mikey said, closing his eyes and stretching pleasantly. They had been having this discussion back and forth for about three minutes, and all the while, the Lord of the Dance had been convulsing on the television. Mikey had begun the discussion by saying that the dancer terrified him beyond all reason, and Raph had shrugged off the claim, mentioning another Michael which he found more unnerving.

"One hundred percent _moron_," Raph said gruffly but fondly, hooking an arm around his brother's neck, yanking him in, and giving him a noogie.

"OW!"

"Raphael! Michelangelo!"

"I didn't do it!" Mikey yelped automatically.

Splinter was calling from the dojo. "You forget your practice."

Raph, arm still hooked around his brother's neck, pushed himself to his feet, dragging Michelangelo up and forcing from him an involuntary "ulp!" "C'mon, General. Time ta get your butt kicked ta Bangkok."

"Lemme go!" gurgled Michelangelo, and his brother obliged with a chuckle. "Can your granny do this?" He leaped onto the coffee table and did a swift backflip, springing off the back of the couch and landing perfectly on the floor.

"Yes, and with greater finesse," replied Raph, ambling toward the dojo.

Mikey stuck his tongue out at his back and started to follow. Pausing by the wall, he bent over to tighten a knee band. Untie, straighten, retie. The lights dimmed slightly. _Donnie's gonna be fixing the electric crap tonight,_ he thought wryly. He stood up and jogged into the dojo.

It was empty.

Michelangelo blinked.

_The dojo was empty._

Raph had just gone in. Splinter had called them from there. Leo must have been in there warming up before their sensei ever called them, because that was what he did.

_And the dojo was empty._

"Guys?" he called tentatively, stepping into the room. No one answered. Everything was fairly normal otherwise, just a little...dark.

"Guys? You there? It's not my birthday." He wandered a little further before the strangest sensation overcame him. He stopped. He could go no further.

That was weird.

He leaned forward and tried to take another step. His foot wouldn't lift. The open air seemed to harden around him, and he could almost lean against it. Experimentally, he pulled back a pace. That worked. He could go backward, but not forward.

"Guys, I am getting incredibly creeped out."

No one seemed to care. No one was there.

He continued to walk backwards to see how far he could get. After about ten slow paces, his heel nudged something and he heard the creak of wood sliding against stone.

It was a chair that hadn't been there before, a few inches from where he had stopped to tighten his knee band. One of the ones from the kitchen. About two feet from the other side of it was another like it. They were pushed up against the wall, backs facing each other. He reached forward and touched the closest one. It was solid enough. He wasn't hallucinating.

"Raph?" he called, finding this situation less spooky and more alarming. "Donnie? Leo? Master Splinter?"

Only echoes answered him.

Mikey turned and dashed for the stairs. _Maybe they're in their rooms._

WHAM. The wall of air again, ten feet from where he'd started.

He fell back, bewildered. _Okay, that's another rule to remember_, he thought before he could pin down why. He leaned forward, testing the air with his arms. Finding no resistance, he tried to take a step forward. He couldn't.

_It's not so much like a wall. It's more like someone has me in a bag, and the end of the bag's tied down to something, and every time I try to walk away, I just strain against the bottom of the bag._

Tied down to something. That wasn't an idea Michelangelo cherished.

_But what is it tied down to?_

An odd but subtle sensation caught his attention. It was as though he was suddenly light, light enough to float, but remained as rooted to the ground as before. His eyes blurred slightly, then focused, and he found himself staring at the room from beside the wall, in front of the two chairs, as though he had never left it. The lights were back on, and before his brain could process what had happened to him or search for a meaning, someone leaped up from the couch.

Someone who hadn't been on the couch before.

Mikey stood gaping as his brother Leonardo spun from the couch and jogged toward him. "There you are," gasped the de facto leader of the turtles. "Have you thought of anything yet?"

"Huh?" Mikey offered brainlessly.

Leo stopped and stared at him, keeping his distance to about four feet. "You...forgot?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, bro," Mikey admitted helplessly.

A light came on in Leo's eyes. "Ohhhhhh," he said softly, eyes trailing away from his brother and shining with thought.

There was a pause.

"Dude, ya might wanna explain what just happened. One minute you guys're there, and the next minute you're not there, and I friggin' wish you'd stay in one place!"

Leo shook his head. "It's not like that, Mikey."

Mikey froze. "Then you know what's going on?"

"I wouldn't say that."

"What would you say?"

The look Leo had when he locked gazes with his younger brother was a mixture of solemnity and pity—never a good sign. "We're not the ones phasing in and out, Mikey. You are."


	2. Phasing

"You said you were fluctuating in and out of time--"

"Wha-huh?" was all Mikey could get out.

Leo sighed patiently. "Last time I saw you was on the fifteenth," he began.

"It's the tenth."

"Then..." Leo looked as though he suddenly understood something. "You just now started...you haven't even..."

"Dude, just make sense."

The older turtle closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and shifted to his left foot, crossing his arms. Releasing the air he had taken in a sigh of long-suffering, he began. "Okay. You said you have about three minutes, so I'll be quick. You will go back, and when you do, tell Raph not to go anywhere. When you see Don, tell him not to follow you. Especially Don. Tell him he can't follow you, whatever happens."

"What?" Mikey felt like his brain was unraveling. "I didn't say anything like...What happened to Raph and Don?"

"They're gone. They disappeared. Splinter, too. _Don't_ let them follow you."

"Is this happening to them, too?"

"No, Mikey, they're _gone_. Through that." He pointed, and Mikey's eyes followed his hand to the two chairs. Between the chairs.

Mikey shook his head, no less confused. "I don't see anything."

"You said it's a rift in time and space."

"I didn't say anything."

"When you were here before, Mikey, that's what you said. They're gone, walked right through that wall. I watched Master Splinter do it."

"Why would they do that?"

"They're looking for you. Donnie saw you right there, a day after you vanished."

"After I what?"

Leo gave a hiss of frustration. "Listen to me!"

"I am!" protested Mikey. "Just...start where it makes sense."

"There's no time, Mikey. You disappeared--"

"I haven't gone anywhere."

"Listen! You're the one who watches all the science fiction shows! Be creative!"

Mikey bit his lower lip. "Fine. Keep going."

Leo took a deep breath. "The others are gone. You're going in and out of time. You're going to go back in time from here at least twice that we know of."

"How?"

"Raph and I saw you, before Raph disappeared. And Donnie saw you, before he disappeared. If you can talk to them, you can keep them from following you."

"I just..." Mikey glanced back at the chairs. "Follow me where?"

"Into the rift."

"But I didn't go into the rift. I stood there a few minutes ago to tighten one of my kneepads."

"That probably makes a difference. Tell that to me when you go back."

Mikey nodded as his brain started to make a semblance of sense out of this. "Okay. Next time I see you, I tell you everything you said to me. Wh-where d'you think they are?"

"On the other side of it, or inside of it, trapped either way, or they would come back."

"How much time am I going to have when I see you again?"

"About fifteen minutes."

Mikey began to shiver, his brain processing the situation as he knew it and not liking it. He had no idea what was happening to him, and now his family was disappearing. "Don't go anywhere," he whispered. "If you go after them, whatever's got them will get you, and I need you. You've got to stay here and help me puzzle this thing out."

"I don't know how I can help, Mikey. Donnie's the boy genius. If he were here, he'd be able to reason all this out." Leo shook his head lightly. "I don't know what to do."

Mikey's brain was racing against itself. It slammed into a possibility. "First of all, what else did I talk about with you guys when I was here last?" If he knew, he could be that much further ahead of...

Leo seemed to understand. "I think I told you everything we discussed. What do you think we could do?"

Mikey shrugged. "Like you said, Donnie's not here. All I've got to go on is stuff I've seen on sci-fi shows."

"But there may be some merit to imagination over rationalization," Leo said quietly, the side of his index finger slowly rubbing back and forth over his chin.

"Whatever that means. Either way, whatever this thing is, it's still open, right?"

Leo nodded. "As far as I know, if 'open' describes it."

"Let's say it does. So they can still get out."

"If they could, they'd've done so by now."

"Maybe they can't do it on their own."

"We've been there."

"Well, going into the rift-thing obviously isn't the answer." The cogs of Mikey's brain were whirling. "Maybe we can figure out how to get them out without actually going in."

"If you could--"

Leo wasn't finished with the sentence before, without warning, the feeling of lightness came over Mikey again. His vision blurred, this time less like his eyes were unfocused and more like he was seeing a picture that had been snapped from a moving car. The colors and shapes of the room streaked and ran together, and when they cleared, Mikey was alone.

_Dammit!_ his mind screamed. Just when Leo was about to...

"Leo?" he called, suddenly nervous. He had phased again, and there was no telling where in time he had gone. If Leo wasn't here, if no one was here, he wouldn't have anyone to talk to.

"LEO!" he called again, louder this time. "IT'S MIKEY!" He tried to run to the stairs again, but slammed into the same force as before. He reeled. "MASTER SPLINTER!" he shouted in the direction of his sensei's room. "IS ANYONE HERE?"

No one was there.

A thought chilled him. What if he'd gone forward to when Leo had disappeared, too? Or been killed?

The rational part of his brain told him that Leo had probably gone to April's. Or maybe everyone was asleep.

"Leo? Raph? Don?"

By now, someone should have heard him, if anyone was here. He gave a sigh and sank to the floor. If he was going to spend an indefinite amount of time alone, he may as well think. He tried to remember theories about the space-time continuum that he'd heard on Discovery Channel shows, but mostly remembered what he'd watched on Star Trek. Space and sub-space. Time portals. Wormholes.

But how had this happened? Had someone created it? Were they aware of the damage they were doing? Could they make it stop? Could they fix everything?

Maybe someone had created this thing and deliberately made it lead to their lair. In that case, why hadn't they come through? Would that mean it had an entrance and an exit, like a wormhole? If they could create this thing, shouldn't they be able to control it? Maybe they didn't want to get to the lair. Maybe they wanted to bring the turtles to them. Maybe they had no idea what they were doing, and no idea of the consequences.

Scratch that last one. That was not likely.

Unless it was Renet. Now it seemed likely.

This was too crazy. It was all speculation. He didn't really have anything to go on.

Not speculation. Hypothesis. That was what Don called it. It was always speculation until you tried it out and proved it.

Things could obviously go into this rift or wormhole or whatever. How could it be possible to test whether or not something could get back out?

He jumped to his feet as the feeling of lightness came again, and the room blurred around him. Phasing again. Wonderful. He hoped someone would be home this time.

Hm. This time it was taking longer.

His vision cleared, and once again, he found himself in the same spot, alone.

"Leo?" he called experimentally. This was happening too often. "LEO?"

"Mikey?" called a familiar voice.

It was Raph.

"RAPH!" Wow, it was good to hear that voice!

"LEO, IT'S MIKEY!" shouted Raph's voice.

Mikey heard footsteps upstairs, and Raphael burst from his room and tumbled down the stairs. Mikey had about ten seconds to prepare before his brother seized him by the shoulders and forced him to look him in the eye.

"You okay?" the older turtle asked frantically.

"Yeah," answered Mikey.

"You hurt?" Raph's hands moved to Mikey's cheeks, holding his face in place while looking him over for injuries.

"I'm fine."

There was a pause, then THWACK! Raph hit his brother upside the head savagely, encouraging an "Ow!" of protest from the orange-masked turtle. "What the hell were you thinkin'?" shouted Raph.

"Mikey?" called Leo's voice as the oldest turtle flew down the stairs. "Raph, quit hitting him!"

"One minute you're right behind me, then I turn around and-and you're _gone!_ For _five days!_" Another smack, another cry of protest, and Mikey rubbed his smarting head. It was evident that Raph had spent the last five days scared spitless.

"Raph," Leo said in a warning tone, approaching his brother from behind.

Another smack. "You ever decide to jus' disappear again, I'm gonna bust your--"

"_Raph!_" snapped Leo. "Leave him alone."

"Yeah, Raph," Mikey said with a small smile, a little relieved to be in a familiar situation, "stop hitting on me."

Raph said something along the lines of "forget you," only less delicate.

Mikey had to bite his inner cheek to keep from automatically replying, "That's what I'm telling you to avoid," seeing as how Raph was upset enough as it was, and frankly, there were more important things besides banter right now.

"What happened, Mikey?" Leo demanded.

Mikey rubbed the back of his head. "I got fifteen minutes, guys. This might take a bit."


	3. In and Out

Author's Notes: Forgive me for taking a little longer with this chapter. I will be on vacation next week, and I hope to have the next chapter up a few days after I'm back. After that, things should be back to normal. Enjoy!

* * *

Leo sat on a chair in front of Mikey, elbows on his knees, head bowed, hands clasped, eyes thoughtful. Raph sat beside him, leaning back in his chair, hands tucked behind his head, eyes drawn toward the ceiling. They had been sitting there for about thirty seconds, completely silent, since Mikey had finished explaining what had happened so far. Both appeared to be thinking, but neither seemed tempted to speak aloud.

"What do you think?" Mikey asked tentatively from one of the chairs marking the rift-wormhole-thing.

Leo took a deep breath. "I think...I'm going to make some tea." He stood. "You guys want anything?"

"You an' your tea," grumbled Raph. "Got anything stronger?"

"If you want beer, you're going to have to go out and get it for yourself." Leo glanced at Mikey, eyes inquiring.

Raph rolled his eyes. "Gimme some coke."

"There still some of that African tea?" Mikey asked, interested. Leo had picked up a brand of black tea from Zimbabwe while he was passing through. It had a smoky flavor and was quite enjoyable, as far as tea went.

"You get chamomile, Mikey. I'm not giving you caffeine." Leo turned and walked into the kitchen.

As soon as he was gone, Mikey leaned in to Raph. "The Leo of the future told me to tell you not to--"

"--go into the rift," they said together.

"Yeah," Raph grunted, rolling his eyes. "I figured."

"So don't."

"I ain't promisin' nothin', Mikey."

"But you disappear! What if you get killed?"

"F'get it, Mikey," Raph snarled.

"No," Mikey said stubbornly.

"What's going on?" Leo demanded from the kitchen.

"Nothing!" Raph yelled back, glaring at Mikey.

"Why do you want to go in?" Mikey asked in frustration, heartbeat picking up a worried pace. Of all things for Raph to get stubborn over, why this? "You...you know what'll happen."

"If I stay here, I'll go crazy."

"If you stay here, you'll live," Mikey retorted. He was starting to shiver.

"Whatever," mumbled Raph.

"Is that a promise?"

"Maybe."

"Promise me you won't go in."

Leo ducked out of the kitchen. "Honey and milk, Mike?"

"Yeah," replied Mikey, glaring at Raph. "Hey Leo, tell Raph to stop being stupid."

"He going on about going after Don and Splinter?"

"No," snarled Raph.

"Yes," insisted Mikey.

"I'll hog-tie him if I have to, Mike, don't worry."

"But in the future--"

"The future can change, Mikey."

That made something click in Mikey's head, and the cogs of his brain began to whirl like dervishes. "C...can it?"

Leo leaned against the wall. "Mikey, it's in the nature of the future to change."

"But..." Mikey swallowed. "It hasn't."

"What?" asked Leo and Raph at the same time.

"If...if Don and Splinter are still missing, it means I haven't prevented it in the past."

"Okay," Raph said impatiently, "you're gonna hafta use more words than that. Short words," he added, probably thinking of Don.

Deeeep breath. Sigh. "Okay. Future-Leo told me to keep you and Don from disappearing, especially Don, because when he disappeared, everyone went after him. But if I went back in time and kept him from going in, he would be here now."

Leo's eye ridges lowered. "But you haven't gone back yet."

"But...Future-you remembered me coming here, right now. I was here, so he remembered when I saw him, even though it hadn't happened to me yet. Even though _I_ haven't done it, yet, in my like, personal timeline, it's already happened in real time."

Both of Mikey's brothers looked confused. "You're saying," Leo said slowly, "that even though you haven't done it yet, you've...already done it?"

"Yeah! I mean, I should've."

Leo shook his head. "Give me more, Mikey."

Mikey released a frustrated puff of air. "Okay. Um..." He held up his arm, holding the forearm parallel to the floor, palm facing towards him. "Let's say this is real time. We are here." He placed the tip of his finger on the center of his forearm. "Donnie disappeared here," he said, placing his finger a little to the left, "or _here_ to you, sorry," he hastily added, mirroring his action and placing his finger to the right of the center of his forearm. "Following me so far?"

"Kinda," Raph grunted.

"Okay. I've already been here." He tapped the place that signified the event of Don's disappearance. "Don saw me there, and tried to follow me, and ended up in the rift-wormhole-thing. Since I've already been there in the timeline—and it doesn't matter if I haven't been there yet personally—it means we're still here," he pointed to the center of his forearm, "and nothing's changed, because I didn't change it when I was there in real time."

With the assistance of the visual aid, his brothers were finally nodding. "But you haven't been there yourself," Leo insisted. "Coming to that realization might help you change it when you go there."

"But hasn't that already happened? Haven't I already had this conversation with you?"

That brought back the confused stares.

Mikey sighed. "Okay. I've been to the past, right? Not in my personal timeline. If nothing's changed by the time I've realized this, it means that the future me, in the past, still hasn't changed anything."

"This hurts," muttered Raph.

"Let's just hope it doesn't work that way," said Leo, obviously as pained as Raph.

"Well, it makes sense to me," said Mikey. "You guys just need to watch more Star Trek."

"Maybe you don't prevent it from happening, Mikey," Leo suggested. "Maybe you bring them back in the future."

"Maybe," Mikey conceded.

The teakettle was shrieking. Leo hastily turned back into the kitchen, leaving Raph to stare in wonder at his younger brother. "You're really somethin'," he said softly.

Mikey grinned. "Nah, I just watch too many geek shows."

"No, really, Mikey, you just came up with all that like it was off the top a' your head. It's...pretty cool. I mean, I get it now, but...I just keep...gettin' reminded how smart you are. Makes me feel pretty dumb."

"Aw, you're not dumb. You just don't watch enough geek shows."

Raph glared at him. "I'm bein' serious."

"Me too, Raph. I'm probably totally wrong about all this. I'm not Donnie."

"But you're smart." Raph's eyes dropped to the floor briefly, then skipped back up to his brother. "Tell ya what."

"Yeah?"

"I won't go anywhere."

Mikey grinned, relief easing his chest. "Promise?"

"I promise."

Leo appeared from the kitchen with a tray topped with two mugs with spoons sticking out of them and a can of chilled soda. He swiftly but gracefully stepped to where his brothers sat and began handing out beverages. "Chamomile with honey and milk," he said, placing a mug in Mikey's hands, the spoon in it clattering against the edges. "Cola," he said as Raph took his can. He grasped his own mug and set the tray on the floor as he sank into his own chair.

Mikey stirred his tea and blew on the surface. He had no idea how his brother could drink his so hot—Leo was already sipping his. Raph was slurping his cola contemplatively. Mikey forgot his tea for a moment and drank in his brother instead. Raph appeared thoughtful as he sipped, eyes like bitter chocolate staring somewhere beyond space and time, into a world only he knew. The familiar feeling of wonder overcame Mikey as he stared at his brother, his best friend, his hero, although he would never admit it and they all knew it. He imagined this being the last time he saw him.

_I'll hog-tie him if I have to, Mike, don't worry._

_I won't go anywhere._

But Mikey was scared. Leo couldn't control everything, Raph least of all, and it took more than a promise to make Raph predictable. If he couldn't keep Don from disappearing, then how could he...

Don.

He shuddered. Don was already gone. But he would see Don again, he knew that much, and maybe he could stop things. Maybe things would change this cycle, this time he went through. Then Don would be safe, and Splinter, and Raph, if they could all keep from yielding to the temptation of diving head first into some rip in space and time.

Then what? Keep phasing in and out of linear time for the rest of his life?

No. If Don was saved, he could figure out a way. Don could always figure out a way.

But if he couldn't prevent anything, what then? Could he stick an arm in and grab on to his father or his brother? He saw merit in the thought.

"Have you tried sticking like ropes and stuff into the rift or wormhole or whatever?" he asked, eyes darting back and forth between his brothers.

"Raph threw a brick in yesterday," Leo commented. "It seemed to work..." he cast a steely look at Raph, "...but I hope he didn't give anyone a concussion." Raph didn't reply.

"So...you tried sticking in a rope or something?"

"Yeah," snorted Raph. "It came apart. Like someone sawed it."

"Have you tried something like a stick or--"

Colors suddenly ran together, and Mikey went cold. _Too soon_, his mind processed as the feeling of lightness came. _That couldn't have been fifteen minutes._ More like twelve. Had it been different this time around? Or had Leo overestimated the time he had spent?

It was taking longer this time, and there was a slight pain, like indigestion, in Mikey's gut. He felt nauseous. What was happening?

When he came to himself, he was standing before the chairs, holding a cup of still-steaming chamomile tea. Leo was in the door to the bathroom, to his left, and staring at him.

"Well," his brother said after a moment, "at least you brought back the mug."

"Is Raph here?" Mikey asked breathlessly.

Leo sighed a little and shook his head, eyes glittering dangerously, and Mikey's stomach dropped into his bowels. "It happened exactly the way you said." 

Crippling disappointment and grief and then...rage. Unadulterated rage.

He was going to kill Raph.

"The bastard broke his promise."


	4. Back and Forth

Author's Notes: Not only will I be starting a new job tomorrow, but I'm having family trouble. The chapters may be posted a little more slowly from here on. Thank you for your patience.

* * *

"Broke his freakin' promise!" Mikey fumed.

"Waitwaitwaitwaitwait." Leo held up his hand, signaling Mikey to a halt. "Did Raph promise you not to go in there?"

"Back when I last saw you guys!" wailed Mikey, peeved beyond reason. "I'm gonna kill 'im!"

"Not if I get to him first. He left in the middle of the night. He was gone when I woke up in the morning."

"He's just…that's…" Mikey sputtered, and finally cried out, "WHY?"

"Calm down, Mikey. Let me take the t—"

Just as Leo was reaching for the mug of tea Mikey still clutched, the porcelain vessel exploded. Shards of ceramic went everywhere, ricocheting off Mikey's plastron and forcing Leo to duck behind his arm. Splinters of porcelain stung Mikey's face and he instinctively closed his eyes.

Shaking, he opened the hand that had held the mug and glanced at it. It looked like a pincushion with tiny porcelain pins. His pain senses kicked in and overwhelmed him. "Holy crap," he hissed, cradling his hand, almost doubling over.

Leo was there in half a second, coaxing his hand into his own. "Let me see," he said softly, scanning it. "I'll get some things for you. In the meantime," he glanced into his brother's eyes, "try to imagine up a reason for THAT."

* * *

Having shards of porcelain plucked out of his hand was painful, but no more painful than finding a reason for them to be there in the first place. "Do you think it has to do with the time travel?" Mikey asked softly, afraid of the answer.

Leo gripped the next splinter with a pair of tweezers and yanked. They were both sitting now, about five feet from the rift-wormhole-thing. "I'm not sure what else it would be. The only problem with it is, you haven't…exploded."

"That's supposed to be a problem?"

"You know what I mean." Leo continued to pluck splinters from his brother's bleeding hand.

Mikey hesitated. "I…"

Leo glanced up.

"I…um, it kind of…hurts more and more each time it happens."

Leo's eye ridges sank. "How?"

"Well, it didn't really hurt until this last time. Before, it just sort of…took longer each time. This time, it…hurt. In my chest…and stomach. Like indigestion." Mikey swallowed.

Leo, who had been waiting patiently for his brother to finish, sat with a blank expression on his face. Several beats of silence pounded before he spoke. "That…might not mean anything."

Mikey nodded, his better sense telling him Leo was worried, too. "But maybe...we should try to hurry up and figure out how to fix it."

Leo nodded. "So what do you think?"

"What's today's date?"

"June first."

"So I just came from May fifteenth, and went forward. Before that, I don't know, but before that, I was in the future—the past, now."

"What do you think about this thing that's causing it?"

"Well…it might be a rift. It might be a wormhole. I kind of think it would make more sense if it was a wormhole."

"Why?"

"'Cause…I don't know. How could you tear the space-time continuum? If it's a wormhole, someone might've actually put it there, so they could take it away. And a rift and a wormhole…I dunno if there's a difference."

"Yeah…" Leo pulled the last shard of ceramic from Mikey's hand and placed it in the trash can he'd pulled up nearby. He quickly poured hydrogen peroxide over the injured hand, causing Mikey to wince from the sting. "I've been thinking someone might have put it there, to get to us."

"Who?"

Leo crooked an eye ridge. "Do I have to make a list?"

Mikey shook his head. "Who might know where we live?"

"Well, if it has to do with time, the Time Scepter must be involved."

"Maybe. Which is...kinda scary."

"I know." Leo carefully began to wrap Mikey's hand in gauze. "I don't know that the gauze will last longer than the mug—"

"It might," Mikey interrupted.

Leo sighed. "Go on."

"Okay. When you prep the clay for pottery, you're making sure all the little clay particles are straight and stuff. Then you make it into whatever you want. With fabric, you make all the fibers straight, then twist 'em together like crazy. If the more complex stuff is harder for the wormhole to tear apart, or whatever—"

"Mikey, we don't know that the wormhole is tearing anything apart."

"My mask's still here," Mikey pointed out, tapping said orange fabric with his left forefinger.

"Well, until something like that happens again, I don't want you to worry about it." Leo fastened the gauze with medical tape.

"Anyway. Do you think whoever's causing this knows what they're doing to us?"

"I'm ready to assume the worst, Mikey. But if someone's trying to lure us all in—"

"Who says that?" Mikey was suddenly struck with a thought. "What if they're not trying to bring us to them? What if they're trying to get to where we are?"

Leo shook his head. "Then why wouldn't they have done it already?"

"For the same reason Don and Raph and Splinter haven't come back—they can get in, but can't get out."

Leo frowned and opened his mouth, then looked thoughtful. "That…would actually explain a lot." He paused, then grunted. "It actually makes sense. But why couldn't they get out?"

Mikey shrugged. "Could be something as simple as, they can't find the exit."

That seemed to make sense to Leo. "Then we're back to the question of, 'How do we get them out?'"

"And leave whoever's trying to get to us inside the thing."

"And stop whatever this is from happening to you," Leo added softly. "I won't let—"

The rest of what Leo said was muffled as the world blurred again, and the pain in Mikey's chest and gut suddenly clutched at him, more intense than before. When it passed, a wave of nausea crashed in, and Mikey took a deep breath. He was in front of the wormhole again, and only one light was on in the lair—a lamp by the couch.

Standing in front of him, with a look of shock on his face, was Raphael.

"No," Mikey choked through the haze of nausea and darkness. "You promised. You promised me you wouldn't go."

Raph took a step back. "Ya…I didn't know you'd show up."

Then Mikey was right. Raph was on the verge of going into the wormhole. "You promised me, Raph. That used to mean something. I guess it doesn't now." It was hard to sound angry and hurt when he mostly felt sick.

"You don't understand—"

"Damn right I don't understand, you freak."

"It's Splinter in there, and Donnie's in there with 'im—"

"And you'll get stuck in there, too."

"You don't know that." Their voices were rising in volume and pitch.

"Do you have no clue what's been going on? I've been to the future—"

"How far, Mikey?" Raph's bitter chocolate eyes sparked dangerously, challenging.

"What?"

"How far in the future you been?"

"June."

Raph gave a sharp nod. "Yeah. You seen it all, then."

"What's that—"

"I'm sayin' you ain't seen the end of the story, Mikey. An' you don't get this from my end, it's all happenin' so fast for you. I been pacing in front of this damn rift for three hours, thinkin' about my promise, an' about the family I have in there, an' I decided there's no way ta be sure I don't make it."

"But I don't want you to go," choked Mikey, and his vision blurred again. Not the blur of a time shift, but the blur of embarrassing, unwanted tears. His throat constricted, cutting off his breath. Closing his eyes, he bowed his head.

Strong arms seized him and pulled him into a fierce embrace. He clutched at his brother, swallowing his sobs and blinking his eyes clear. The tears fell and scattered like crystal on the dark skin of Raph's shoulder. Mikey took a deep, shaky breath.

"I'll be okay," muttered Raph, giving his brother a quick pound on the carapace before pulling away. He forced Mikey to look him in the eye. "You know how I know that?"

Mikey didn't want to hear excuses.

"I know 'cause if I can't make it out on my own, you're gonna get me out. You got that?"

A short laugh, more like a choke, exploded through Mikey's throat. "That's a lotta pressure on me, bro."

"It ain't pressure, 'cause that's just the way it's gonna happen. You got that? We're both gonna be okay. But I gotta do somethin'. My father's in there. My brother's in there. I can't sit here."

"You got two more brothers right here."

"You'll be okay. I'll bring 'em back, or you will. We'll be together again. All that Disney movie crap." A smirk twitched onto Raph's face.

Mikey shook his head, shaking. "Don't do this."

"Sorry, Mikey."

It couldn't happen.

It couldn't happen, and he wouldn't let it.

No way.

He took a deep breath. "LEO!"

Raph's expression went from concerned to startled. He instinctively glanced up to where Leo slept in his room.

"LEO!" Mikey screamed again.

"MIKEY?" called the hoarse voice of Leonardo.

Glancing back to Mikey, Raph paused for a moment, then shoved his brother aside. Mikey stumbled over his own feet, twisted, and collapsed on the floor, hands slapping the concrete. Needles of pain prickled over his hands. "DON'T!" he cried, struggling to sit up.

He glanced up just in time to see Raph take off toward the wormhole at a run. "NO!" he screamed, darting forward, hand reaching to clasp at an ankle, only to clutch at empty air.

Raph was gone.

May sixteenth, just like Leo had said he would.

The door to Leo's room opened, and the oldest turtle peered out, blinking sleepily. Mikey met his eyes briefly before every color in the world swirled together.


	5. Former Future

Author's Notes: Okay, folks, my grandfather just died, so the next chapter will take a little longer. I will try to work on it this week--it helps occupy me--but probably won't be able to post it until I fly back home. This chapter is shorter, and the next one will be, too, but I hope you enjoy them both. Things are getting started now. Thanks go to Kytyngurl2 and Winnychan for their advice on this chapter. Thanks for reading, and remember to review!

* * *

All the colors in the world blurred together, and pain lanced through Mikey's abdomen and chest, branching out into his limbs this time. Blinded with pain, he tried to maintain enough mental clarity to process what had happened. Raph gone. Unacceptable. Must go back and fix it. Must go back this time. Back in time.

Back in time.

Back.

Back.

With every transport, he had gone an opposite direction from before. First forward, then back, then forward, then back, then forward, then back. This time had to be different. He had to go back again. Had to go back in time, not forward. Back.

_Back!_

It ended at last, and he was staring at the lair again. All the lights were on. Someone was there. He heard voices. Upstairs.

Don's voice! Upstairs!

He spun around to face the wall. No chairs. He'd gone back to some point before this started, or at least before Don had seen him. Therefore, the last thing he wanted was for Don to know he was here, or Don would follow him.

Raph's voice took over Don's, then…Mikey's own voice. Chills ran down Mikey's spine. This was definitely before he had been caught up in this…thing. In fact, he could remember this conversation. Any second now, Leo would…

Leo!

Leo popped out of the kitchen carrying a bag of tortilla chips and a squat jar of hot salsa. No sooner had Mikey's eyes fully latched onto his brother than Leo froze and gave him a strange look.

"What's going on?" Leo said softly. "I thought you and Don—"

"Leo," gasped Mikey, head pounding, "what's today?"

"What?"

"The date."

"May seventh."

Yes, that was right. "Okay," Mikey whispered, "stay with me for a second. Don't go upstairs just yet, I gotta know something."

"Hey Leo, you comin'?" called Mikey from upstairs.

Leo opened his mouth, but Mikey frantically motioned for him to be silent. "Don't say anything," he hissed.

Leo gave him a stunned look. "You're—"

"Yeah, I'm in two places at once, blablablablablah. You'll get it in a few days. Just…I gotta try something. Don't say anything." Mikey knew what Leo's reply to that question had been that day. If he could keep Leo from saying it, if he could change the past, maybe he had a line of hope.

Leo stared at him with a mixture of surprise, indignation, and fright, which darkened into shock, rage, and horror. "Who are you?" he whispered, eyes narrowing dangerously. Oh crap, this could get ugly if Leo got the idea that Mikey was some demonic doppelganger or something. Leo's fists tightened, his feet subtly moving to balance his body for a fight.

Realization struck Mikey. Leo had never mentioned this encounter, not even after Mikey had started phasing. Therefore, there had been no cycle of time in which he had been here—until now. He had already changed things.

Suddenly, the past wasn't set in stone any more than the future.

"Listen," Mikey whispered. "In three days, I am going to disappear, and I don't think you can do anything about that. But don't let Don go anywhere. If he starts babbling about seeing me, chain him down, do anything. Don't let Don follow me." His voice sounded strange, echoing the words Leo himself had spoken to him.

"What are you going to do to my brother?" growled Leo.

"Dude, I _am_ your brother, just…from the…um…you'll get it later. Don't—" He ducked as Leo took a swing at him. "Don't—" He blocked a punch. "_Don't try to kill me!_" he pleaded in a hiss. Leo paused, eyes focusing on him, a look of confusion crossing his face. Mikey relaxed, meeting Leo's eyes. The spark in his brother's face told him Leo now recognized his brother.

WHAM!

Mikey was suddenly staring up at the ceiling, head whirling. His mouth opened, closed, and opened, and Leo was upon him, seizing his bandaged hand and crushing it in his grip.

"Who are you?" hissed Leo.

"Dude, you sucker-punched me!" yelled Mikey, more than a little indignant all of a sudden.

"LEO?" called the other Mikey.

"We got trouble!" shouted Leo, eyes burning.

This was not good. Leo could ruin everything.

Or fix everything.

"Tell Mike," gasped Mikey, "not to tighten his knee straps, ever. Tell him he'll regret it. Tell him—"

The whirling of his head grew faster, and he was phasing again. He braced himself for the pain. It spiked through his body from the tips of his toes to the crown of his head, as before, but with less severity. Surprise and relief filled him. Maybe he was getting immune to it.

No time to think about that. He had to know if Leo had heeded his advice. He had to go forward.

He had been able to do it before.

He could do it again. Control this thing happening to him.

Forward.

His blood vessels tingled. It was a strange sensation, like termites crawling under his skin, but it was short-lived. Far preferable to the pain. When the colors of the world sorted themselves out, it was gone, leaving no pain, just a reeling head.

Leo was sitting in front of him, on the couch, meditating with a furrowed brow.

Wait.

The couch didn't face this wall.

Leo didn't meditate on the couch.

And nothing was furrowed when Leo meditated.

Just how far into the future had he come?

"Leo?" he said softly.

Leo's eyes opened slowly, then blinked, staring at his brother blankly. After a moment of silence, Leo smirked. "You have some nerve, showing up after all this time."

Now Mikey was concerned. "Wh-what?"

Leo didn't respond.

"Leo? What's the date?"

"Leave." Leo took a deep breath, then released it slowly.

"But Leo, it's important."

"Shut up."

"What?"

"Shut the hell up. I'm sick of you ruining me."

_Who are you?_

What had changed? What had happened?

"Leo, it's me. Mikey. Your--"

"I know better than that. You know better than that. Mikey hasn't come home in years."

Mikey's eyes widened, heartbeat picking up. "You mean—"

"You can't ruin anything else. Not this place, not me."

Mikey's mouth slowly dropped open. After a moment of gaping, he helplessly tried again, pleading once again, "Leo, it's me."

"Shut up."

"I'm Mikey. It's just…how long has it been?"

Leo didn't reply, but his brow furrowed.

Mikey's fingers felt numb. His face tingled, and he was entirely unaware of his legs. "How long has it been since Mikey was here?"

"Thirty-one years."

"And…and Spinter? And D—"

"If you say their names, I'll kill you."

That was the tone Leo used when he meant it.

Mike was shaking. He couldn't believe this. Not when he had come so close. So close. All gone. Even Leo now, gone. His one ally, believing he had caused this mess rather than fallen victim to it. "Did he get them back? Are they okay?"

"They're gone, too. Always been gone, no matter what you say. Always be gone. There's just me. I'm still here." A line appeared between his brows, fine but deep, like it had been etched in by years of routine. His eyes slid open, glittering darkly at his brother. "I am going to meditate now. If I see you again, I will kill you."

Mikey hadn't changed the past.

He'd made the future more demonic.


	6. Always Get Worse

Mikey had shifted to a new time now, and hadn't moved since getting there except to sit on the floor and hug his knees. No one was home in this time, and if Leo was there, he wouldn't call to him. Now, things were different. Now, Leo was his enemy, and that made him feel ill.

He stared into space, numb. He was on his own now. Whatever time he went back to, Leo would think of him as the person who caused this. There was nothing for it now. He had to figure this out on his own.

That was why he wasn't just staring numbly into space. Behind his eyes, the cogs of his brain spun nearly out of alignment, faster than planets.

Raph said they'd tried rope. The wormhole had torn it apart, or something. Had they tried something harder? He didn't remember if Raph had said. Harder, like what? Iron? Steel? They had random junk everywhere, but what was within ten feet of Mikey? What could he reach?

No way to know but to look.

The chairs? Made of wood. Probably not hard enough.

Pipes were all over the ceiling. They could be nasty to mess with.

Come on, there had to be a loose lead pipe, or some kind of tool, a weapon, anything. His chucks? In the dojo, and he couldn't get that far. Nothing on the floor, nothing, nothing.

He would have to try a chair.

Or his arm. He experimentally reached for the wormhole. When he was less than an inch from the wall, he met resistance, like two magnets repelling each other. He might be able to push through it…

No, he preferred his arm functional and in one piece, thank you very much.

The chair or nothing.

Taking a deep breath, he picked up a chair and held it in his hands for a second. After a thoughtful moment, he gripped a leg in one hand and the seat in his other. A swift motion snapped the leg from the chair. Sticking all four legs in at once, still attached to the chair, seemed to be putting all his eggs in one basket, or something. Now there was nothing to lose.

"Here goes," he breathed, and shoved the stick toward the wormhole.

The stick didn't meet the same resistance as his hand had, and disappeared through the wall. He stopped it halfway and waited like a breathless fisherman.

Perhaps someone would see it.

Perhaps someone would grab on and pull himself through.

His grip tightened on the stick, and he pulled it slowly towards him, just enough to see if the wormhole was cutting through it like Raph had described. He couldn't see anything different about it. Either it was on such a small level that it was invisible to the naked eye, or the wood was holding up.

He felt a tug.

A tug!

He yanked on the stick, and his arms were nearly jerked out of their sockets. Holy crap, it felt like reeling in a cliff wall! He groaned and squeezed his eyes shut, bracing his feet on the concrete floor, bending his knees, and leaning back. He felt a little give. Slowly, he began to straighten his legs, straining against the pull of the wormhole. He peeked an eye open.

A hand had made it through the wormhole and was gripping the chair leg.

A human hand.

Disappointment shattered Mikey, but a spike of hope seared him. Whoever this was might know something. Gripping the chair leg in one hand, he lunged forward with the other and seized the hand. Its fingers tightened around his, and Mikey _yanked._

Floor!

Ow!

Crap.

He stared up at the ceiling, or at least in its general direction, as he could only see sparks. A sharp pain in his head was morphed into a slow, dull throb. The ringing in his ears drowned out his thoughts, and he had no idea if he had been successful.

Although once the ringing in his ears was replaced by a quiet chuckle, he was fairly certain he had done it. Unless he was going crazy. He sat up slowly, vision clearing as he did so, and blinked to turn his thoughts back on. There was a man standing above him, yes. A man…

Japanese. Tall. Dark. Creepy. Wearing a cloak. Carrying a sword.

The Shredder.

Because things could always get worse. And had to.

A hiss escaped Mikey's teeth and he spun to his feet.

BAM!

On the floor again.

Stupid. Stupid to think he could possibly be effective against a man who had nearly killed him and all three of his brothers without breaking a sweat. But that didn't stop him from trying.

He wrenched to his feet, both fists swinging upward towards his enemy's chin. One huge hand grasped and crushed them both. Another seized the edge of his plastron, below his collar bone, and shook him. Pain ripped through his flesh, and he froze, his sense of self-preservation finally kicking in. Oroku Saki's dark eyes captured his, and the hated mouth murmured confident words Mikey shuddered to hear.

"Thank you."

"No," muttered Mikey, shaking his head slowly.

"You have saved me a great deal of trouble." His eyes darted about. "What day is it?"

"I don't know."

The Shredder shook him more roughly, eyes blazing, and fire tore Mikey's skin. "THE DATE!"

"I don't KNOW!" Mikey screamed back, dropping to his knees and slipping out of the Shredder's grip. He swung a swift roundhouse kick to knock his enemy's feet out from under him. Saki escaped the blow in an easy leap and lunged forward, knocking Mikey flat on the floor. His hands shoved Mikey's arms against the concrete, pinning him.

"You do not know the date?"

Mikey said something along the lines of "Forget you."

The Shredder dug his knee into Mikey's thigh, forcing a sharp cry from his captive. "You're the one they were talking about, incessantly, damn them."

"What?" gasped Mikey.

"Caught in the tendrils at the end of the wormhole. Slowly being torn apart." Saki's mouth suddenly quirked into something like a smile, his eyes glinting darkly. "You realize the wormhole destroys anything too long in its wake, don't you?"

No, no, no, no…

"Anything inside it, it keeps trapped, outside of time and space. Anything too close, it captures and destroys. A rather careless and unnecessary addition on the part of that foolish girl. She thought she was being so clever. In the end, she will destroy you and your family."

No, no, no, no, no…

"Pay attention, turtle. The less it hurts, the better a grip it has on you, and the sooner it will take you apart on a molecular lever. It certainly saves me some trouble. I would enjoy watching you play Russian roulette with cosmic forces, but…" His eyes flickered upwards. "There's still that other freak. I think I shall wait here for him. Don't you think so?"

Saki blurred, and the pain was nearly gone this time. Mikey stared straight forward as he settled in this new time, back in his normal position with his back to the wall, facing outward. His fingers felt numb, his head still throbbed, and the edge of his plastron felt like it had been partially ripped from his skin.

He barely even noticed Donatello, strolling by with a contemplative look on his face.

Don?

DON!

_Don't let Don follow you_.

"No," he whispered.

He shouldn't have done that.

Don froze, then turned suddenly, eyes sparking. "Mikey?"

"No!" Mikey said sharply, motioning frantically with his hands.

But Don's face was joyous. "Mikey!"

"Don't—"

And then he phased again.

Too late.

He had ruined everything.

* * *

Author's Notes: Folks, I'm sorry this is so late, and doubly sorry that it is so short and rushed. Please, this chapter is the one where I need the most criticism. Any helpful suggestions will be the best thing you could do for me. Even if you think introducing the Shredder was hokey, tell me. My thoughts were, well, the Shredder is supposed to be their main nemesis, and he doesn't have very much to do in fan fiction, so...why not get back to that a little? If any of you are still confused as to what is happening, all will be explained before long. In the meantime, the funeral for my grandfather went so well, thank you for your kind wishes (and vashsunglasses, your prayers mean so much). Now his widow is having trouble, and I'm praying I won't have to lose two grandparents this year. My job is going well, and I will hopefully have plenty of time to write. I have no idea why you would be interested in all this, but if you are reading this, you obviously are, and thank you. 


	7. Black and Speed

Author's Notes: Thank you, all those who have directed thoughts and prayers at me and what's been going on. Things are better, and I'm trying not to let the changes going on affect the output of my stories too much.

* * *

Michelangelo was thinking again.

He shivered in the shadows of the abandoned lair, and not from the chill. One breath at a time, he relaxed his body and forced himself not to think about what the Shredder had told him, or about how miserably he had failed so far. There was no point in thinking about the past, or the future, or whatever it was now. The blackness from behind his eyelids calmed him. Only, he began to wonder if he would see such blackness upon being torn apart by this thing that trapped him.

He opened his eyes. Looking around was good. This might be the last thing he ever saw.

The more he thought, the fewer options he found he had. He could try putting things into the wormhole again, but what else would come out of it? Did he even have time? He was wasting time. Ironic, for someone who was time-traveling.

If he was attached to this thing, tangled in the tendrils on one end, what would happen if he...

The wormhole would resist, like it did before.

But he could force his way through. Into the wormhole. Either face an eternity in a place outside of time, or be vaporized by the power of the wormhole over his already-failing body, or...what? Mark the exit? Was that why they couldn't get out? They couldn't find the exit? Could he keep going, and turn this thing inside out? What would happen if he did? Would it rocket them out the other end, or would it crush them all in its folds?

He closed his eyes again, and pictures appeared in the darkness.

Donatello, his sharp brother, a genius and aware of it, making sense of thousands of languages constructed with symbols and thoughts, passive and mature, steady and serious, a reed that bent with the wind.

Raphael, his passionate brother, willing to bleed for strangers and die for family, wrapped up in songs and images, abstract feelings and concrete words, conjuring bright futures for those he loved and ignoring his own.

Splinter, master, mentor, sensei, the all-embracing father with iron wings, strong as steel, hard as rock, gentle as a mother's kiss, who drove away nightmares with whispers of daylight and springtime in lands Michelangelo had never seen.

Leonardo, the protector, the guide, the other parent, collected, understated, in control, twisting fibers of light into threads and weaving them into patterns, into nets, into whatever he wanted, and he would have the darkest future of all, separated from the only world he had, the only people he had seen, spoken with, loved, until lately.

They were his family. Mikey's family.

There was no choice. There was nothing to think about.

His eyes opened. He was ready.

He took a deep breath, turned to the wall, and reached out between the chairs with one hand. A trickle of consciousness chilled his brain and pierced into his gut, thoughts that he could kill himself like this, and he couldn't quite shake it. Yes, he might die. But, he told himself, if he didn't try, that was a guarantee anyway. The last shift hadn't even hurt. He knew it was time.

Resistance, as before. He pushed harder, adding in his other hand, fingers together and pointed toward the wall as if to pierce the barrier of magnetic repulsion. Finding this easier, he stepped forward.

Nothing to lose. Nothing to think about.

The resistance hit his face. He could almost feel his skin drawing back. But his fingers were inches from the wall, and his bones were shaking, and his teeth started to chatter. Just a little further. Just a little further. He inched forward. Just a little...

His fingers disappeared half an inch from the wall. In the time it took him to process the shock of seeing a part of his body disappear, a force far more powerful than he could have imagined before sucked him in the rest of the way like a spaghetti noodle.

Black.

There was nothing but black, no sense of smell or taste, nothing to hear, nothing to touch, nothing to see, but he was flying, fast, faster, faster, faster than a roller coaster, faster than freefall, faster than a jet, faster than a rocket to the moon, so fast that his stomach spiked up into the crown of his head, and he was choking, terrified, pure terror at the sheer velocity, the speed not exhilarating, but hideous and horrifying, and his mouth was wide open, and he could not scream, no air to breathe, no way to breathe it, spinning and speeding deeper and deeper and deeper into sheer nothing as black and slick as silk and oil.

Black.

His senses were gone, kaput, comatose, but he felt the black whirl around him, about him, behind him, stretched like rubber, real, solid matter, enclosing him, pursuing him, hurtling him endlessly forward, endlessly, endlessly, into more black, an entity unto itself, endless and beginningless.

Nothing to taste.

Nothing to see.

Nothing to hear.

Nothing to touch.

Nothing to smell.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing but speed.

Nothing but ears roaring with the deafening scream of the nothing in his ears. Nothing but the sheer terror, the velocity, the pain in the pit of his stomach, the pain that was not pain, the vague knowledge that he may be something close to alive, and the desperate, silent cry of his mind that pierced the nothing. This wasn't ending. This wasn't ending quickly enough. Was it going to end? Oh god, let it end.

No breath.

No end.

Nothing but speed.

Nothing but black.

Then it was over.

Light burst over his field of vision, his flight, or fall, coming to a sudden and bone-shaking halt, and now that he could breathe, he screamed.

And screamed. And screamed.

Dimly he was aware of solid matter beneath his knees, beneath his hands, beneath his curling fingers, but whether he was on the floor or wall or ceiling he had no idea, his vision was a spinning whirlwind of reds, creams, and golds, bright colors piercing his head like the scream tearing out of his throat.

Air exploded into his lungs, and he screamed still.

Voices. Muffled voices, barely heard over the roar in his ears. A hand, warm, soft, touching his face, a familiar sight.

"Michelangelo!"

He gasped, coming back to himself. Eyes. Brown eyes, comforting, worried, untameable. He choked on his own gasp. Arms, surrounding him, holding his shivering body close to the scent of incense and steel, spices and herbs, and the familiar softness of a silk robe.

"Sensei."

"It's okay, Mikey," came another voice. Mikey's eyes swerved up to the concerned face of Donatello. "You're okay. We're okay."

"Where the hell are we?" came another voice—Raphael.

Mikey's scrambled brain took seven heartbeats to clear the adrenaline enough to process this information. He had done it.

His eyes widened. He had done it!

"I dunno, I think this is, like, the Shredder's boudoir, or something. Bo-ring."

That voice...was less familiar, but all too familiar. Hovering well in front of Mikey was a well-endowed girl with a staff and a ridiculous hat.

Renet.

He screamed again.


	8. Very Awesome

"So it's not like I _meant_ to run into him. I just kinda did. And I was like, 'How are you?' and he was all, 'Grr, I can use you in my plans against the turtles,' except, well, not exactly—"

"Renet," Mikey pronounced the name deliberately, "_make sense_."

The Timestress shrugged. "There's not a lot about it that makes sense. Oroku Saki got his goons to tie me up and bring me back here, and omigod, I totally scuffed my elbow, and he told me if I didn't make a portal to your lair he would, like, do bad stuff. And I'm like, no way am I giving you guys away, but I don't think I _really_ need to miss any classes 'cause I was getting tortured, so I thought, hey! I'll set it up so he can get in, but no one can get out!"

"And you make it _actually_ lead to our lair?" growled Raph.

"Well, duh. I mean, like…well…now that you mention it, I probably shouldn't've. But anyway, when he went in, he grabbed me and pulled me in, too, like all of a sudden I was a hostage! I mean, _that_ really freaked me out, and ugh, it was like, get a breath mint. I mean, that guy like _never_ brushes his teeth or something. But anyways, we ended up stuck in there, and he is _totally_ dull, by the way, he just kinda kept looking at me threateningly, it's like, dude, get some other facial expressions."

"And what was happening to Mikey?" Don asked before she continued that tangent.

"Well, the wormhole has, like, wormy things at the ends, and Mikey got caught in one. It happens when you stand in front of it too long. But now that you turned the whole thing inside out, it's all collapsed and stuff, and you don't have to worry about it anymore."

"And to us?" prompted Don, indicating the rest of his family.

"You went right in and got stuck."

"Right."

"If we are here," Splinter murmured, eyes sliding about the room, "where is Oroku Saki?"

"I dunno, he like, disappeared at one point. Remember?"

"He's in the lair," Mikey said in sudden realization. "I—" All eyes turned to him. He swallowed. "I was trying to free you guys," he said apologetically. "I tried putting a chair leg in, and he grabbed on and came out. He…he said he'd wait there for…"

"Leonardo," Splinter whispered in restrained horror.

Don snatched his bo staff from his shell and twirled it in his hands. "Let's go."

Raph, Splinter, and Don raced for the window. Mikey grasped Renet's arm urgently. "Stay here," he said.

Renet blinked. "Oh, no!" she protested. "I'm not staying in The Harem while you guys do all the cool stuff!"

"Shut up and listen," Mikey hissed, growing more and more tired of this day, or whatever it had been. "You stay here, and you make the wormhole again. Make it _exactly like you made the last one_. No modifications. This may be our one chance to get rid of the Shredder for good."

They approached the lair swiftly but quietly. Michelangelo could hear sounds of conversation and a clash of weapons. _Oh god, we can't be too late already_. Splinter, ahead of the rest, reached the door and signaled for stillness and silence. The door was cracked open, and the rat peered through.

He didn't say what he saw, but he motioned for them to come closer. He held them with his eyes. Mikey hung back behind his brothers. They were armed. He was not. This meant something.

With a quick hand motion, Splinter signaled, and—

BAM!

Through the door.

By the time Mikey cleared the door, all he could see was his brother Leonardo kneeling on the floor, head tilted far to one side, teeth gritted, with a long knife pointed at his carotid artery.

Behind him, Oroku Saki.

"Do not move," warned the Shredder.

The room was frozen.

"Drop your weapons."

They were dropped.

Mikey got the craziest idea.

The Shredder stood coolly over them all. "You five have been too much trouble for too long," he said softly, and his words could have laced the room with frost.

No time to think about how crazy it was. No time to ponder the end of his life. No time, because regardless of anything else, it would work. If he did it now.

"This is your last hour."

NOW!

Mikey broke into a sprint, straight for the wormhole.

Saki did not lose an instant. His blade raked across Leo's throat. Mikey almost lost it, but this was all-important now. He broke past Saki and slid to his knees before the wormhole, just inches away, just seconds away…

He froze.

He knew behind him, one of his brothers was dead because he'd moved. This had better work. Renet had better have followed through, or…

Cold despair.

It wasn't working.

Leo was dead. And Saki was moving, probably killing the others, probably…

Tingling.

Tingling in his face, hands, feet.

_Back!_

But not too far.

Just far enough.

Blurring, no pain, floating like he was on a cloud, back, but not too far, just far enough.

Back.

And he rose to his feet, directly behind Oroku Saki, twenty seconds before.

"Do not move," warned the Shredder.

The room was frozen.

"Drop your weapons."

They were dropped.

And Michelangelo pitched forward two feet, seizing Saki from behind, jerking his knife hand upward, away from Leo's skin, and he tumbled backwards with him, their limbs in a tangle, until Mikey's shell his the floor and his legs flew up, pitching Saki backward. With a startled gasp, Saki crashed into the entrance of the wormhole, and disappeared.

Gone.

Mikey shakily got to his feet and glanced upward. His vision blurred, then cleared, and he saw his family staring at him in pure shock.

Except for one.

The other Michelangelo bore a growing smile, a smile that said, "Cool!"

Mikey nodded to him.

Mikey nodded back.

And Mikey stepped back and dissipated into nothing.

Leonardo slid into a chair by Michelangelo at the kitchen table, placing a plate of reheated pizza in front of him. Mikey had been sitting at the table and staring into space for half an hour now, and this was the second time Leo had reheated his pizza for him. Don and Raph were distracting Renet with a video game and Splinter was putting in some long-needed meditation. Leo sat his elbow on the table and propped his cheek against the heel of his hand, watching his oddly solemn brother.

"Not hungry?" he asked softly.

Mikey shook his head. "Not really."

"What are you thinking about?"

Mikey smirked. "Me." He sighed and settled further into his slump, burying his face in his arms on the table. "The other me."

Leo clapped a hand to his shoulder. "Don't think about it too much. You did well."

"'Cept it wasn't me. It was him."

"He was you, Mikey."

"But I didn't do that. The whole heroic self-sacrifice thing—"

"That was you."

"All I did was think about it—"

"And you would have done it." Leo shook him gently. "Look at me."

Mikey turned his face to the side and met his brother's eyes.

"What he did, you did, as far as I'm concerned. It came from the same place. You got us all out of this, and that…" He smiled a little. "Mikey, that means you're everybody's hero. You realize you didn't have Don, you didn't have Master Splinter, you barely had Raph and me…"

"I got lucky."

Leo raised an eye ridge. "Like it or not, you're smart."

That got a single laugh from Mikey, and his eyes dropped.

Leo pulled him into a half-hug. "You're gonna be fine. You're the hero."

"Maybe," Mikey sighed, a smile toying with his lips. After a pause, he said, "You think we could talk about that monument now?"

Leo paused.

"Leo?"

"Take it up with Sensei."

"How come? You're the oldest now."

"Am I?"

"Yeah, 'cause it's June now, and we were here last in May, so you're technically the oldest for real."

Leo paused again. "Seriously, Mike, I'm not touching that one."

"Please?"

"Not touching it."

"Pleeeease?"

Leo stood up. "I'm going to watch Renet give Raph tactical advise."

Mikey's eyes followed Leo to the living area and he settled back into his comfortable slump, with a lighter heart this time. It was good to have his family back and on his side. It was good to be alive. Awesome, even.

Very awesome.

* * *

Author's Notes: Thank you, all who have read this and reviewed. Thank you for your patience. This was a blast to work on, and I hope you enjoyed it! Remember to review! 


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